"cos i wear these toggles!"

So after surviving lockdown, Christmas (with another lockdown) and 'The Hogmanay' it was back to the old routine yesterday of trying not to vomit after overdoing the booze and shortbread whilst settling down to yet another fantastic Chris Chibnall-penned Doctor Who New years special.

 

It was whilst watching this utter amazing piece of teevee sci-fi (in particular the bit where a poorly rendered CGI testicle attempted to face-fuck the star of Shark Attack III) that I remembered a film from my youth where much the same happened to a group of folk on a remote Scottish island.

A few of which had been in Doctor Who.

See? I don't just randomly chuck this stuff together you know.

The Doctor desperately scans for someone who gives two fucks.

Island of Terror (AKA Night of the Silicates/The Night the Silicates Came/The Night the Creatures Came/The Creepers. 1966)
Dir: Terence Fisher.
Cast: Edward Judd, Peter Cushing, Carole Gray, Eddie Byrne, Sam Kydd, Niall MacGinnis, James Caffrey, Liam Gaffney, Roger Heathcote, Keith Bell, Shay Gorman and Peter Forbes-Robertson.

John, I've just found one of my horses dead. At least, I think it's my horse. It's all soft and flabby.

On the remote, tinker packed Petrie's Island, well meaning science type Dr. Lawrence Phillips (the chief Sea Devil himself, Forbes-Robertson in a blink and miss it cameo) is about to unveil his life's work; a cure for cancer.

Unfortunately rather than produce it in easy to swallow pill form (or even a nice orangey syrup) he appears to have stitched two giant warty testicles together and stuck a hoover pipe into the middle of it.

Oh and given it a taste for bones.

Is it just me that thinks this experiment may go slightly awry?

No time to think about it tho' for no sooner has he flicked the bollock enlarging switch than his lab explodes in a dazzling cartoon explosion leaving him and his scientist pals dead.

And the warty walnuts free to roam the island....

Radiation room? or dodgy porn stash?

Off home after a heavy nights drinking and Pot Noodle session with the boys, duffle-coated local farmer and part-time bin man Ian Bellows (Eastenders Gaffney) finds himself caught short on the way home and decides, as you do, to relieve himself against some handy polystyrene rocks.

No sooner has he unsheathed his mighty manhood than the silence is broken by his horrific screams.

And what sounds like someone farting in the bath.

His lovely (OK I'll be honest harsh) wife Morag surprised at not being pawed awake at three in the morning, finding her nightie round by her neck and the bed sick free worriedly contacts local copper (and town chiropodist)  John Harris (Brit teevee and movie stalwart Kydd) at the local constabulary in the vain hope that her hubbie has fallen asleep there or at the very least been arrested for cow violation.

Again.

Unfortunately Harris hasn't seen him since they left the pub but offers to go out and look for him, if only to get the babydoll nightied, horse thighed harridan off his doorstep.

I'm not saying she's scary looking but you can actually see the milk in the jug on Harris' table turn when he opens the door.

Wandering aimlessly thru' the brightly lit studio backlot (sorry, I mean darkened woods) he soon comes across (leaving an unsightly streaky pattern) Bellows' lifeless (and boneless) rubbery corpse propped up against the polystyrene rocks  like a big fleshy trifle.

"What we have here is the severest case of mooth shite-in known to man".

Terrified (and a wee bit aroused by the sight of the poor fella's gaping and somewhat inviting mouth), Harris swiftly (well as swiftly as a half cut, short arsed Oirishman can) runs to fetch the islands top Doc and resident posh bloke Dr. Reginald Landers (Star Wars' General Willard himself Byrne).

But despite his university education and fine line in tailored overcoats, Dr. Landers is fucked if he can determine why the dead man is completely without bones so decides to travel to the mainland to seek the help of severe cheeked pathologist and horror legend Dr. Brian Stanley (Cushing, all praise to him).

Like Landers tho', Stanley is totally at a loss at to what could have possibly caused such injuries, so the pair head round to the groovy penthouse apartment of the suavely sophisticated Dr. David West (Judd star of everything from First Men in the Moon to Coronation Street), the worlds leading authority on bones, bone diseases and boning in general.

And boning appears to be what's on his mind seeing as he's currently attempting to get into the (very tiny yet tastefully lacy) undies of the voluptuously hipped, wealthy jet-setter Ms. Toni Merrill (Gray from The Young Ones with Cliff Richard who, to our American readers is the true king of rock 'n' roll).

Gray: Sexier than Jesus.

Banging on his door just as West is about to start banging Toni, our middle-aged medics waste no time in explaining their predicament to West, even tho' there's a lady present.

Intrigued by the problem and knowing full well that he can't perform in front of an audience, West agrees to accompany them to the island and Toni, up for a wee bit of orgiastic pikey sex and a chance to undermine feminism in all it's forms offers the use of her dad's private helicopter in order to get back to the island (and the plot) that wee bit quicker.

Only thing is that he needs it back by three so he can go to Waitrose for his monthly food shop, effectively leaving the fantastic foursome stranded on the island till the bin men arrived the following Thursday.

On arrival their first stop (after getting their inoculations against foot and mouth and general Oirishness) is Phillips' secluded castle laboratory where they find the poor scientist and his colleagues all dead eyed and floppy.

Just like your dad when he used to sneak into your room after the pub.

Deciding that whatever caused all the deaths must have come from the lab, West, Stanley and Landers (Ms. Merrill has the most important job, which is to sit in the car and keep the seats warm) gather up all of Phillips' belongings (including his ladyboy porn stash, fags and notes) and head back to the hotel to 'study' them and, over a few pints of Guinness catch up on the plot so far before discovering that Phillips had inadvertently created a new lifeform by accidentally splicing a silicon atom to a pair of giants gonads.

"In mah mooooooooth!"

Meanwhile PC Harris, thinking that the boffins are still at the castle arrives there to report on a boneless horse that's been found behind the youth centre.

Intrigued by a locked door with a sign that reads 'Killer testicles keep out!' he heads inside only to be attacked and killed by a huge, rubbery tentacle.

In his mouth.

Back at the hotel, it's discovered that these creatures, dubbed Silicates by West and Stanley (Ms. Merrill wanted to name them Testiclons, bless), kill their victims by injecting a bone-dissolving enzyme into their bodies and sucking the resulting goo thru' their arses.

Not only are the Silicates the most pant wettingly scary creature ever to appear on film but are also bloody hard to kill as Landers discovers when he tries unsuccessfully to kill one with an axe only to have it retaliate by forcing a tentacle up his arse.

The poor man screams for help as the rest of the cast look on with expressions of mild apathy.

And in Stanley's case a wee hint of jealousy.

With one of their number down and the Silicates multiplying like rabbits, West and Stanley head over to the house of local big man (and the islands unofficial king) Roger Campbell (Zeus himself MacGinnis) in the hope of recruiting the islanders to repel the massive man-sack menace.

After convincing him that the creatures are of English origin - and with him being a typical Paddy - Campbell jumps at the chance of a fight and quickly phones his loyal assistant (and owner of the local newsagent) Peter Argyle (former actor and current alcoholic drink Caffrey) to round up the townsfolk and arm them with anything that comes to hand.

Which, being Irish means bullets, petrol bombs, exploding pigs and dynamite.

God bless them!

"Help mah boab!"

None of this seems to have any effect on the Silicates tho' and after a couple of minutes of loud bangs and random people shouting things like "Begorah!" and "Oh no! annudah baybees died!" the creatures get bored and go to sleep.

But not before splitting into two and doubling their destructive force.

Yikes.

With the battle quickly becoming a lost cause and with nowhere to turn the fate of the island looks bleak, until that is West and Stanley hear reports of a Silicate found dead on the beach after eating a stray dog that had inadvertently consumed a sandwich containing a rare isotope called Strontium-90.

Could this be the key to Petrie's salvation?

With time running out and the Silicate threat growing, Stanley and West must venture back to Phillips' laboratory in the hope of finding enough isotope to destroy the Silicates once and for all....

A testicle carrying a designer handbag yesterday.

Remember back in the swinging sixties when Britain actually had a film industry and companies like Hammer Films, Amicus and Tigon kept the locals on the edges of their collective seats with a constant stream of horror classics?

Well there's one company from those heady bygone days that lies forgotten and dejected, even tho' they released one of the most terrifying films ever made.

That company was Planet Film Productions and the film was that classic of science gone wrong that was, is and always shall be Island of Terror.

Unless you live abroad that is where it's known as the slightly less gruesome Night of the Silicates.

Or something.

God knows how much the budget was but most of it seems to have been blow on winter coats for the actors, which amazingly helps to show who's in charge of who in the cast; ordinary islanders wear donkey jacket style attire whereas the more important community members wear duffle coats, mainlanders are bedecked in Crombie's whilst Roger Campbell (being the big man) has a duffle coat with toggles and a sweater modeled from what looks like stringy cottage cheese.

Design genius I'm sure you'll agree.

Then there's the almost Lynchian direction and scenes of unnerving bizarreness on screen.

Examples include the fact that every time a car doors slams it does so to the exact timing of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, the fact that local copper Harris, in a sign of almost Wicker Man-esque Lord Summerisle adoration of Dr. Landers, dutifully follows the physician around whenever he's onscreen, helping him into his coat, bowing graciously and even following him around with his trilby like a dutiful footman.

And taking of headware, the mighty Peter Cushing adds a subtle touch to the oncoming danger, donning a variety of more and more darker hats (and matching shirts) as the movie progresses.

Insert slimy tentacle and/or cock here. Please.

Ah good old Peter Cushing, probably the scariest thing is how such a threadbare company as Planet were able to afford such a prestigious actor.

The same goes for director of Terrence Fisher’s standing.

I've no idea what incriminating photographs Planet's head had of the pair but I for one would love to see them.

Ripe for re-release and begging to be remade (but on the same budget obviously) Island of Terror is a remarkable experience that will alter the way you look at your testicles for years to come.

And there aren't many films you can say that about.

bee best.

Now that Trump is gonna be dragged kicking and screaming from the White House in a couple of weeks before being carted off to prison where he'll no doubt be passed around like the latest issue of What's On TV magazine, I realized that Melania is going to need a new job.

And I can think of much worse things she could do (or has done for her green card) than maybe appear in a remake of this classic.

I mean it's practically her life story already.

So Mels, give us a call and I'll see what I can do to make this happen.

Delirium: Photos Of Gioia (1987).
Dir: Lamberto Bava.
Cast: Serena Grandi, Daria Nicolodi, Vanni Corbellini, Karl Zinny, Lino Salemme, Sabrina Salerno, David Brandon, Capucine and George 'The Body' Eastman.

''a woman's anger can be very bad''

Terrifyingly breasted Former model cum part-time porn princess Gioia (Grandi, the big faced star of such quality movies as Anthropophagous: The Beast, Angelina: Lady of the Night and Frivolous Lola), has finally hit the big time with the publication of her cutting edge 'fashion' magazine, the aptly titled Pussycat.

To celebrate, our dirty pillowed darling has hired her hunky photographer brother Tony (Corbellini whom you may recognize from his star turn as Gualtiero Di San Casciano in the fantastic TeeVee miniseries Black Arrow....or maybe not) and his camp as pants assistant, Roberto (Brandon from, um, Beyond Dark) to re-imagine some of the risqué images that made her world famous (well they helped your dad thru' some lonely times) but this time using a hot new lady-model.

Your mum last Saturday night.

Everything goes swimmingly (and I must admit, quite sexily in a kinda eighties way) and the shoot wraps without a hitch, unfortunately, shortly after leaving Gioia's villa little miss model (we'll call her Babs) is brutally (and not to mention bloodily) slain with a rusty pitch fork.

Ouch.

Luckily (for the police, not the model, obviously) this wicked act is witnessed by Gioia's wheelchair bound young neighbour - and part time stalker - Mark (Zinny, long faced star of Bava's Demons and Graveyard Disturbance) thru his telescope that he just happens to have had trained on the swimming pool all day.

Dirty wee sod.

Yes it is Sabrina - you know the one that sang 'Boys -Summertime Love' and the Stock, Aitken and Waterman classic 'All Of Me' - being touched up by mummies in case you were wondering.

 

 

Being a nice guy he immediately phones Gioia -rather than the police- with the news.

Tho' it's a surprise that he can find the telephone under the pile of crusty tissues in his room if I'm honest.

Unfortunately our busty babe, thinking it's just another of Mark's pervy phone calls (he doesn't get out much) hangs up on him.

Thinking nothing more of the situation Gioia goes back to work preparing the next big issue (of Pussycat magazine, not the paper that the homeless sell) and trying to contact Babs to offer her another job (this time advertising the cut price undies for the Aldi catalogue no doubt).

With her phone ringing out constantly and no-one having seen her for weeks, Gioia assumes that poor old Babs is on holiday, but this idea is cruelly shattered when not only does her body turns up behind some bins but also an envelope arrives at the 'Pussycat' office containing photographs of the murdered model posed in front of a huge blow up piccie of our Gioia.

"Eye hen!"

From then on it's murder after murder as more and more models on the Pussycat books start turning up dead - and in poses that'd make a whore, or your mum, blush - meaning it's up to police inspector Corsi Manlove (Salemme, another refugee from Graveyard Disturbance and latterly a star of The Passion of the Christ) to find this mammary minded mentalist behind the deaths before it's too late.

Too late for what I have no idea, but you have to admit it sounds good.

Manly.

Corsi is convinced that the killer must be harboring a grudge against Gioia (no shit) and is probably someone very close to her.

Figuratively speaking that is, I mean not actually standing behind her or something.

But who?

Could it be mustachioed man-breasted Alex? (genre god Eastman in a small but perfectly formed cameo that involves him having soapy sex with Grandi in a bathtub) or is it kooky Evelyn? (the ever wonderful Nicolodi, who is never anything other than perfect).

Possibly not.

So how about Roberto who's been seen cruising around the streets at night looking for a nice bit of manarse (and we all know that according to giallo rules homosexuality equals evilness) or is it Mark, driven insane by the constant night time visits by Mother Fist and her five beautiful young daughters?

And don't forget Gioia's bitchy lesbian publishing rival Flora (Capucine from Fellini's Satyricon) who's trying to get her bony old lady fingers into both Gioia's magazine and her silky undies.

Or is it someone else?

But let's be honest here, do we really care?

Once seen, never forgotten - a bit like when you catch your parents having sex - Lamberto Bava's Delirium plays out like some bastard beast-child that sprung from the (sweaty yet gloriously smooth and tanned) loins of Jackie Collins after a particularly heaving drink and drugs session with Joe D'Amato's pet dog.

Whose name I believe was Pascal.

Originally conceived as a star vehicle for one time 'sexiest woman in Italy' Serena Grandi (at that point more famous for her 39D boobs than any of her acting roles), Delirium was written to showcase her fantastic acting range as well as her pendulous breasts and peachy arse, therefore mixing emotional, heart felt drama with a bit of soft core nudity.

Oh yes and lots and lots of blood.

But it's not all killings, cod-psychobabble and boobs tho' as the film has a pretty unique ace up its wizard-like sleeve.

Namely the fact that the killer (due to some freaky medical condition that is never explained) sees all his victims as tho' they have huge comedy paper mache carnival heads.

No, really.

Yup, for no other reason than the joke shop next door to the studio was having a closing down sale the murderer sees one of his soon to be victims with a giant cyclops face (and a nasty seventies bun hairstyle a wee bit like your gran) and, in a scene that will live in cinema as a perfect example of celluloid genius long after you and I have passed on, sees another as having a big furry bee head.

Oh and scarily pointed breasts.

But I have a feeling those are real.

I don't know what's freakier,
the big bee head or the shocking pink wallpaper.

But it's these scenes of bloodletting, bizarro bonces and bouncing breasts that are the films saving grace, because if it wasn't for them breaking the arse numbing tedium of the movie every five minutes you'd have to concentrate on what passes as the plot.

"I'm sorry I have my womans period!"

If, however you manage to make it to the movies end then you'll be happy to know that it climaxes (oooerrr) with a dribbling man cutting off Grandi's flimsy garments whilst pervily whispering ''I want to see you in the nude, one last time''.

And after the amount of times she's flashed her (slightly soiled) wares during the proceeding ninety minutes the promise of no more nudity seems like a godsend.

One to keep you entertained during lockdown.

Or if you're missing your gran.

happy new year.

 

toy story.

Anyone else got these badboys for Christmas?

merry christmas one and all.

 Hopefully next year wont be quite as shite but I doubt it.

angry birds.

Well after a year of creepy covid, lockdowns, home haircuts and now even more lockdowns I can safely say that I feel like absolute bollocks, so what better way to replenish my energy than with a good movie?

Or failing that a really shite one.

Merry Christmas.

The Angry Red Planet (AKA Invasion of Mars, Journey to Planet Four 1960).
Dir: Ib Melchior.
Cast: Gerald Mohr, Naura Hayden, Jack Kruschen, Les Tremayne and a hamster on stilts.

"You know, I can't say that I recommend spacesuits for beautiful young dolls. What happened to all your lovely curves?"

It's the brightly coloured (very) early 60s and the great men - and women who make the coffee - at space mission control are busy monitoring Mars Rocket 1 as it returns to Earth following the first manned expedition around Uranus.

Only joking, it's really been to Mars.

Obviously, I mean the clue is in the name.

It appears that everyone thought the rocket had been destroyed or lost (probably down the back of a huge Martian sofa) so is pretty surprised when it turns up on the monitors heading back to Earth so, although the highly qualified and slick haired technicians are unable to make contact with anyone onboard, they decide to fly the rocket by remote control back to base.

So far so talky with a chance of military stock footage.

When the rocket finally lands everyone is shocked to discover that of the four person crew only two have survived and one of them - the hunkyily horse-toothed Col. Tom O'Bannion (the voice of not only Reed Richards in the 1967 Fantastic Four cartoon series but also Green Lantern in the 1968 Aquaman show,  Mohr) - has a massive green bogie stuck to his arm.

Luckily for those viewers not turned on by snot the other survivor is the chisel-chinned, shapely redhead Dr. Iris Ryan (Hayden, author of the best selling How to Satisfy a Woman Every Time) who, as is the way in 60s sci-fi, stumbles out of the rocket before screaming and then collapsing into someone's arms.

After a sweet cup of tea and a gently slap she regains her composure enough to report the full terrifying story of what happened on Mars.

As well as (in arse numbing in detail) the banal and slightly sexist - thanks lug-headed Chief Warrant Officer Jacobs with your sweaty sausage fingers constantly grabbing for poor Iris - trip to the planet that will make up a large part of the film's running time.

But for the sake of brevity (and sanity) let's skip that bit and head straight to the aforementioned angry red planet.

You're welcome.

Fake news.

You see it appears that Mars’ atmosphere contains a strongly ionized layer (or is it treacle?) that's impenetrable to radio waves which means that the crew have no way of contacting Earth, luckily they have loads of old tape reels lying about so they can at least record the audio of everything that's going on ("Oh look! it's a red rock! - Oh look it's another red rock!" etc.) and with that  decide to go out and explore anyway.

I mean what could go wrong?

Well almost everything.

For a start Mars' atmospheric density is so low that it muffles every sound and making it impossible to hear unless everyone is really shouty (it'd suit your dad then) and the atmosphere is so ionized as to make everything look like it's been coloured in with felt pens.

Tho' that may just be a useful film-making gimmick to hide the fact that most of the backgrounds, plants, building etc. are actually crude child's drawings.

Add to that, the Martian 'jungle' (OK 3 pot plants and a bush) is teeming with giant, tentacled, man eating (well Iris grabbing) plants that look like fannies.

Actually the last bit doesn't sound too bad if I'm honest.

Unfortunately (for the viewer) Jacobs (Kruschen from shed loads of stuff) has a special 'freeze ray' rifle that disables the killer plant before it can tear any of Iris' clothes off.

And with that they all head back to the rocket for tea and biscuits and a lecture on space stuff from resident egg-head Professor Theodore Gettell (Tremayne, the voice of God in the 1985 series Greatest Adventure Stories from Bible).

But Gettell's lecture is interrupted by Iris' screams (again) when she notices a three-eyed ball-head beast looking in thru a porthole.

Putting it down to female hysteria the crew call it a night and go to bed.

Your mum yesterday.

Up bright and early for a second day of exciting space exploration, O'Bannion is caught short whilst digging up weeds and sneaks off for a sly piss against a nearby tree which, it turns out, isn't a tree at all but the - by now soaking wet - leg of a 40 foot tall hamster/bat/spider thing.

Which is unexpected.

As the beast tries to crush Gattell who's conveniently placed himself between 2 rocks, Jacobs fires his freeze ray at the beast but to no avail until that is he aims at its face and turns its eyes to ice.

Or something.

Suffice to say it totters away screaming never to be seen again.

Unless you're a fan of top pop shockers Misfits obviously as the beast surprisingly turned up on the cover of their 1982 debut full-length album (Misfits) Walk Among Us alongside some shoddily photocopied flying saucers.

They can walk where they want, it's the constant mooth shite-in that bothers me.

 After wiping himself down and zipping back up O'Bannion decides that what they all need is a seaside picnic to cheer themselves up so to this end the group head over to the sandy shores of a nearby lake filled with what seems to be vinegar and piss.

A wee bit like Saltcoats then.

Unfortunately O'Bannion realises that he's left the rubber dinghy in his other jacket so promises that they can come back for a paddle the next day.

So the crew excitedly head back for an early night in preparation for some holiday style fun.

Naura Hayden: Tunnel or funnel?

Unfortunately Dr. Gattell has other ideas, you see he's convinced that, with all the killer fanny plants, pissy lakes and giant rodents, it's way too dangerous to stay on Mars for the full five day mission and that they should all go home and O'Bannion realising that he'll have more chance scoring with Iris if he plies her with cheap booze agrees so everyone straps themselves in and prepares for take-off.

After a splutter and a wobble reminiscent of your Mum on Christmas Eve the rocket just sits there as the crew look at each other in a confused manner.

Or it may be constipation.

Who knows?

Pulling a set square from his pocket, Gattell oohs and aahs over the control panel before informing the crew that they are being held in place by some kind of force field and that the ships engines would need to be more than 100 - maybe 102 - times more powerful to escape.

And on that bombshell they all decide to head back to the beach in the vain hope that Iris has packed a space bikini.

"Ooh Vic....I've fallen".

The next morning our merry band head off to the shore, unpack the dinghy and set off across the lake where - after what seems like hours of inane chat and paddling - spot an island in the distance with a huge skyscraper (or at least a fairly well sketched picture of one -  at its centre.

Excited at the prospect of finding intelligent life on Mars (obviously the crew don't count) our heroes begin paddling ever faster but their journey is interrupted when a giant boggle-eyed cabbage bursts out of the water and blocks their path.

With the stench of rotting foot and PVA glue filling the air - and with the film fast approaching its climax - the astronauts have no choice but to paddle back to shore for  if not their very lives then at least to save their careers.

But the creature has other ideas as it follows them ashore with a massive plop  first eating the raft and then scoffing poor Jacobs whole.

And you'd think it'd spit that bit out.

Things go from bad to worse tho' as O'Bannion is infected by the creatures spores as he attempts to grab the fiver he's owed from Jacob's dead body, leaving Gattell and Iris to hot-wire the spaceships hull in the hope of electrifying the massive cabbage to death.

"Is it in yet?"

 With O'Bannion confined to his bunk - his wanking hand rendered useless and poor Gattell mid heart attack it's left to Iris to save the day but just as she's about to take off a booming voice is heard over the rocket's intercom.

It seems that three-eyed thing that Iris saw earlier was - in fact - the official spokesman for the Martian hive-mind and he has an important message for all humanity.

And with that Iris promptly faints.

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas.....MONSTA!"

A slow dissolve takes us back to a tea drinking Iris as she finishes her fantastic tale and a gaggle of science types look wistfully at each other has they decide what to do next and figure out what the message from Mars actually was.

Women eh?

Luckily the whole thing about electrocuting the cabbage was useful in treating O'Bannion's infected arm and when he regains consciousness he remembers that he'd left the tapes recording in the hope of catching Iris having a fiddle whilst the others were sleeping so the whole Martian message should be there.

Result.

Excitedly the team head over to the rocket, press play on the tape machine and await the aliens words of wisdom......

Or is it a dire warning?

From director Ib Melchior (who, as a writer, gave us the classic story that inspired Death Race 2000 as well as being the true creator of Lost in Space and providing the English language script for Mario Bava's Planet of the Vampires) and from a story outlined on a napkin by producer Sidney Pink comes this wacky and (sometimes) wild Mars based masterpiece that's featured special effects and cinematography are quite possibly more recognisable than the film itself, thanks in part to the utterly bizarre - and often hallucinatory camerawork of the great Stanley Cortez  - probably better known for his work on The Magnificent Ambersons, Night of the Hunter, The Naked Kiss and Shock Corridor who decide - after a few ales probably - to film the Martian exteriors using an experimental process called Cinemagic - a technique where black and white film is hand tinted giving the film a strange almost  3-D quality.

Luckily it also covers up cardboard sets and hand drawn monsters so everyone's a winner really.

Except when you're watching in high definition obviously when those cost-cutting techniques look oh so painfully obvious:

My advice is get screamingly drunk first.

Talking of being half-cut the cast are fairly enjoyable and do not bad with what they're given, which in the cases of  Gerald Mohr and Jack Kruschen appears to be lessons in seduction from Harvey Weinstein seeing as they spend most of the journey to Mars either pawing at poor Naura Hayden or commenting on her 'terrific pins and curves' whilst - in the case of Mohr - showing off way too much old man chest resplendent with greying tufts of hair.

Well it'll keep your Gran happy if nothing else.

Naura Hayden: pins and curves.

And whilst the film's direction might be flatter than a pancake and the script dull as dishwater it does have a saving grace in the aforementioned giant hamster beast which is as terrifying today as it was to a 6 year old boy furtively gazing at it in an old copy of Famous Monsters magazine.

Which probably says more about me than the movie.

Recommended.

Sort of.

as an aside....

 I'd watch the absolute shit out of a 60s set spy series starring these four....

Just saying.